


Bar Certification in English History

by Bequeathment_Sperm



Series: Divergence Theory [3]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen, the 5 timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bequeathment_Sperm/pseuds/Bequeathment_Sperm
Summary: Timeline 05 Post-S03E05: Instead of going to the Halloween Spook-Tacular dance after Britta's pre-party, Jeff decides to meet up with Ian Duncan for one last drink before his friend heads off to England to take care of his ma.
Relationships: Ian Duncan & Jeff Winger
Series: Divergence Theory [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849432
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	Bar Certification in English History

_Well, it’s no L Street._

Jeff Winger noted as he walked underneath the wooden signage of the _Tipsy_ Fanny and through its green, banged-up door. _It’s no ‘Red Door’ either._ Having reconsidered meeting up with Duncan for one last drink before his friend departs for England, Jeff steps out of the snow, shaking it off his jacket as he enters the pub. At around quarter to midnight on Halloween, the place is understandably empty. Barring a few college students watching football replays on the TV, an overly intimate couple clearly too drunk to be playing darts, and a group of three old English men with their dog off to the corner, the only other occupants in sight are its bartender and a nearly-drunken limey perched in front of him.

For a lack of a better term, the bar was very _British_. Or trying way too hard to be, at least. Why Duncan had chosen to spend one of his last nights in America inside an English-themed bar made no sense to him. Although Jeff found the photos of patrons during the 70’s and framed old British Banknotes to be quite tacky, the wood finish of the walls and scent of old oak was a nice touch. _No L Street, but much better than Flannigan’s Hole – Sorry, Shirley._

On his way towards the countertop, Jeff glanced towards a pool table in the corner of the room and his mind briefly wanders towards a fantasy world where ‘Single-Malt Platinum Boobs and Billiards Club’ actually existed. _Damn you, Abed._ He then placed his hand upon the Brit who seemed to be completely fixated on consuming a glass of Whiskey and a side of Fish and Chips, “Hey, buddy. This stool taken?”

“Jeff Winger, you big slut! Glad you could make it. Come and join me. Maurice, a glass of Glenlivet for this man, please,” Ian Duncan states enthusiastically as he turns to Jeff and welcomes him. The bartender reaches over to pour a glass him a glass, but Jeff places his hand over the glass and politely declines before suggesting an alternative, “Actually, could I have a Macallan? Neat.”

“Oh, boo. You Americans, never going with the delicate tones. So very brash.”

“And you with the fruits and flowers in your whiskey; are you sure you didn’t want to order a cocktail instead, Duncan?”

Banter. Some small talk. More banter, maybe make sure his friend doesn’t do another rap where he gets punched in the face. That was his relationship with Duncan. Simple, smooth and easy. If all he needed to do beyond that was wish his friend well on his visit to England, this was shaping up to be a great evening.

“Alright, fair. So, how’ve you been?” Duncan briefly pauses before inquiring his friend’s current state as Maurice goes to switch up the alcohol.

“I’m good. The day started off pretty rough… Got even rougher but… I’m good,” Jeff shares, surprised at himself for choosing to be vague instead of outright deflecting. _Man, what did that Halloween story do to me?_ He seats next to his friend, and takes a drink to ponder that implication.

“To be perfectly candid, I’m quite surprised you made it tonight. Date stood you up?” Ian pried curiously, likely only half-joking. Jeff shook his head with a slight smile, “No. Just figured I’d drop by here and see you off – What about you? What’ve you been doing before I got here? Earning your PHD in Solitary Alcoholism?”

“I’ll have you know that I earned that degree years ago. And besides, there is nothing wrong with dabbling with a little solitary mixology. In fact, seeing people alone and automatically thinking that they’re distressed is an indicative sign that said observer derives their source of happiness from other people… No, my friend, I’ve simply grew up in a pub similar to this back home, so I’m completely comfortable in this setting,” Ian explained to Jeff before adding an anecdote after his earlier statement, “Although that pub **DID** have both more relatives and whores residing in it; some of which overlapped mind you… But I digress. How are you free this fine evening, and to what do I owe the pleasure? Six-headed ball and chain let you off early tonight?”

 _Okay, he is chatty tonight. I wonder how much he’s had already._ Jeff just nods back at him and responds, “Yep. We all spent the last hour or so fixing a test someone Brit – I mean, someone messed up on.”

He corrects himself, making sure that their inside-jokes wouldn’t go beyond the study group. Although if he recalled correctly, Troy and Abed said that they weren’t using that word anymore. _Does that mean that we’re stopping “Pulled an Abed” and “Don’t Pierce” too?_ “Anyway, we split up because they wanted to head to the Halloween Spook-tacular dance and as you can see, I’m clearly not dressed for that tonight – You know how Greendale is.”

“Indeed,” Duncan nods at his drink before taking a sip as the conversation goes cold.

Banter. Small talk. More banter. Jeff had forgotten how out of touch he was with Duncan and how rarely he’d had to make extended small talk over the past two years with anyone beyond his study group.

Tonight might not be as simple, smooth and easy as he thought; he was a sprinter, best at high-speed bursts of wit – the evening seemed to be transitioning into a marathon, which was entirely out of his element. Hopefully, he’d find some common ground to talk about soon like that time he and Shirley spent long walks focusing on gossip, or this drinking session was going to turn into a long, drawn-out drag.

\---

After a round of drinks in silence passes, Jeff tries to bring the conversation back around, “So, I guess you really are back on the wagon, huh? I thought you stopped because all the alcohol knocked out tiny Duncan.”

“No. Not tiny. That is slander of the highest caliber. And there is no evidence to prove otherwise. But as for the drinking, I never really stopped, to be perfectly honest. Besides, it's not like there was much mash for my banger anyway,” Duncan mentions disappointingly.

 _Well, that got awkward really fast._ This wasn’t what Jeff Winger was prepared for when he decided to hang out with Duncan tonight. Loud rambling, some thirst-filled comments about Britta, and perhaps a drunken rap about his tea-drinking, wang-waving ways, sure, but this wasn’t it. Obnoxious Ian, he could handle. But oversharing Duncan? It was strange. And as he began to worry about the implications of having a not-so-close-friend bear his soul to him, Duncan thankfully pivoted to being the uncouth self that Jeff initially expected him to be, “Speaking of unused penises, do we have an update on your status with Britta? Are you done striking out yet?”

“Technically, no,” Jeff answers vaguely once again before blurting out in protest, “Wait. Do you even really like Britta? It seems like you like her because she doesn’t like you. And besides, why does it matter? Aren’t you leaving to go back to England? Do you even know when you’ll be back?”

“Maybe around two years, tops. That would likely be enough for me to show that I’ve put in my time. After that, it’s back to America for me,” Ian answered candidly. Jeffs eyes widen, stunned. _Two years?_ He knew he wasn’t that close to Ian Duncan, but not seeing someone for two years without saying goodbye would have ate at him a little. _I guess I made the right call showing up here tonight._

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask since I got here… Why did you pick this bar? It seems like a weird choice. Even weirder now that I know you’re leaving for that long. I expected something a little less _British,_ ” Jeff says, gesturing towards everything in the room.

“Ah, so you picked up on all that stuff, did you?” Duncan has a laugh.

“Well, it’s not exactly subtle, is it?” Jeff motions towards the Union Jack flag draped atop the bar, and a picture of the Queen beside the register.

“Well, Jeff… While it does appear to be English on the outside… Excessively so, to the point of it being somewhat of a caricature of what a British pub would appear to you Americans… It is precisely that **EXCESSIVENESS** is what makes this place reek of Americanism. This place has the wonderful privilege of being the best of both worlds because no truly English bar worth its salt would be daft enough to display this much money,” Duncan points towards several Fifty-Pound notes just underneath the bar-glass.

“I mean, at some point, you’d think that they’d figure that showing off this amount of sterling to drunks would basically be an invitation to be robbed, but, like I said… Not a real English bar. That trait is one-hundred-percent American.”

“Point taken. But it still doesn’t explain why you chose this place.”

“American. English. To me, this place is both. I figured that being here would help me transition from living in America, to going back to England quite seamlessly. Through a slightly-drunken haze, sure, but transition nonetheless. And besides, I’m a regular here. It was a proper chance for me to say goodbye.”

“You’re a regular _here?_ ” Jeff questioned his friend with a confused look on his face. Was this the place where Duncan frequently took sidewalk snoozes in before showing up to class? And if so, was there evidence somewhere on the walls, much like Flannigan’s Hole had with Shirley? Jeff made a mental note to check out the bathroom later just in case.

“Yeah. I’ll show you. Maurice, would you mind changing the tune to number eight?” Duncan requests the bartender who simply nods, and alters the playlist, much to the disappointment of the three older gents in the corner. After a moment, ‘Where are you going’ plays on the speaker system.

“Wait. You’re a Dave fan?” Jeff questions his friend.

“I am indeed. And apparently, so are you. Because…” Duncan trails off before they finish the sentence in unison, “Real fans call him Dave.”

They laugh together for a moment before Duncan pulls out his phone, “You know… I actually got to meet the band backstage a couple years back. Well, everyone except Dave, that is. Here, let me show you on my Mug-Scroll account.”

\---

Over the course of the last half hour, Jeff learned much about his British friend. That he had moved here when he was 10 with his grandma, and that he’d fly back once every couple years to see his ma in Scunthorpe. No mention at all about his father at all, but Jeff didn’t want to pry because, why would he? He wouldn’t want the same thing happening to him, after all. Some conversations were just too awkward to have, regardless of the state of inebriation of your drinking partner.

Jeff does note, however, that he’s receiving a _lot_ of personal information from Duncan, without necessarily sharing much of his own. After his earlier overshare with his Study Group earlier that night, this was a welcome pace. Was this okay? Or was he expected to reciprocate? Jeffery Tobias Winger kept these in his thoughts as the catchy tune of Dave’s ‘Ants Marching’ played in the background.

\---

“That’s what you’ve been doing since the Anthro final? Learning to knit?” Jeff asks him as he laughs out loud after ordering another round for himself and his friend.

“Yes, well it is very therapeutic. My apartment is filled with red and white now,” Duncan explains, likely referencing his obsession with Liverpool, “Can I just say, though, how utterly bollocks that class was? Anthropology.”

“Study of what makes us human. The ultimate blowoff class,” Jeff confirms, “Cheers to that!”

“Cheers!”

\---

After several glasses of scotch, Ian’s questions began to grow more poignant.

“Jeff, do you know why I really came to America?” Duncan asks him rhetorically.

“I don’t know, but word on campus was that it was to see two co-eds oil-wrestle,” Jeff jokes.

“Not at all. Although that was a very good bonus… Do you get along with your father, Jeff?” Ian’s question takes a sharp turn into way-too-real.

“I didn’t come here for therapy, Duncan,” Jeff replies bluntly before realizing that this was the first question of the night he outright refused to answer. However, before he could apologize for the shutdown, Duncan kept going.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that England never was quite the same for me after da left.”

Silence. How could Jeff, or anyone for that matter, reply to something like that. After a pause, Duncan continued once more.

“Although that did contribute greatly in my grandparent’s desire to leave and take me with them, the decision was ultimately mine. I figured that I’d have more opportunities in a better life across the pond. Maybe I could be more valuable to a society that didn’t know my family’s history,” Duncan explained. Jeff found that comment odd. Surely, having divorced parents wouldn’t have been enough of a social sandbag to affect his teaching and psychology career. _Wasn’t Duncan like ten? How would that even be relevant?_ _Wait. Didn’t he mention something earlier about overlapping relatives and whores in that pub he used to live in?_ Jeff’s eyes widen in realization. _Duncan’s ma was an escort._

Jeff had less than favorable opinions regarding escorts once. But that all came from what society had painted the profession to be. It wasn’t until he met Doreen during one of his five freshman year dances that his perception changed. She was classy, dignified and not at all what he imagined her to be. So he understood completely where Duncan was coming from regarding the possible social stigma it was attached to.

“Ian…” Jeff tries to interject in his friend’s defense, but the professor waves it off with a smile on his face.

“I’m not ashamed of my past at all, mind you. But life is just easier when society doesn’t get to judge you for what people shouldn’t be judged for anyway,” he concludes with finality.

Jeff smiles at his friend and gives him a platonic shoulder-touch, “Well, we’re lucky to have you and I’m glad you made it here. The past two years were fun, and it really won’t be the same without you here, buddy.”

“Don’t try to flatter me, Winger. I may be drunk, but you are not my type,” Duncan shakes his head with a smug smile.

“I thought anything was your type.”

“Not exactly, but touché nonetheless,” Duncan laughs as he orders another round for them both.

“Seriously though, you’ve had an impact here on more people than you think. And it wasn’t just me,” Jeff offers, noticing that he may just be starting to open up to his old friend. Duncan waits for him to respond, “Hrmn..?”

“Britta’s taking Psychology.”

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Duncan tilts his head as Jeff piques his interest, “But I’m not at all surprised.”

“Why?” Jeff questions him, taken aback by his friend’s conclusion, expecting him to at least be surprised by the revelation.

“People who believe they’re broken strive with all, and everything they’ve got to fix whatever they can, while holding onto the persistently stubborn belief that if anything is repairable, they are too,” the Psychologist downs the rest of his glass as he finishes.

“Wow. That’s deep, Duncan. Who knew you had it in you?”

“I have my moments,” Duncan smiles as he calls Maurice over for another top-up.

“So why can’t shrinks therapize themselves? Shouldn’t they be the best person to dig around in their own head?” Jeff asks him, genuinely curious.

“First of all, please use the term ‘psychologist’. Shrinks are a rather loose term that could include people who got their credentials by taking an online test – no offense to you, and your fake Law Degree,” the Brit jabbed at him. Jeff rolled his eyes, “Okay, hurtful. I’ll get you back for that later, but for now, go on.”

“The short answer is, sometimes people need communities to help them out because some things are so much easier when you don’t have to handle them alone.”

“You mean how like how people helping each other makes both of them better?” Jeff ponders.

“Precisely.”

“Duncan, isn’t that basically one of the main focuses of Anthropology?” Jeff grins back at Duncan whose jaw drops for a second before snickering, “Perhaps it wasn’t such a racket after all. Who knew?”

“Yeah, who knew…” Jeff swirled the remains of the whiskey in his glass before diving in.

“So, Britta huh?” Jeff willingly returns to the topic at hand, having either warmed up to opening up more to his friend. Or the alcohol. _Probably the alcohol._

“Yeah. Is it over?” Duncan leaned in, genuinely interested in his answer. Jeff knew the Brit was interested in her, heck, based on how blatant Ian was, Britta likely knew too. But if Jeff had to gauge things based on what had been happening during the past few weeks, unfortunately for Ian, it wasn’t in the cards.

“Yeah. Not struck out but… I think we’ve both moved on. I think she’s in a good place now,” Jeff answered truthfully. Britta seemed a bit out of sorts towards the start of the semester, but she had a certain passionate glow that he hadn’t seen from her since the start of the first year. He had his doubts at first due to the bungled scans, but towards the end, it was nice to see her being enthusiastic about something that she could actually be decent at for a change – her speech at the end was something else. Not exactly a Winger speech but, it was something of her own.

“You dropped actively pursuing her without finding someone new?” Ian inquired. Jeff noticed that Duncan had stopped drinking. It was getting pretty late after all, and Jeff was probably bordering on not legally being allowed to drive home. He could only assume that Duncan had passed that point ages ago.

“Well… technically, she did the dropping **BUT** it was mutual. And… I thought I found someone but… I guess I realized that what I really wanted was to focus on myself first,” Jeff concluded. Was it really the alcohol that was making him open up to Duncan? He didn’t even feel the slightest buzz, though.

“Interesting thought there. If I may ask, who did you think you found?” Ian asked casually, seemingly not expecting an answer. After a moment’s pause to gauge whether or not the alcohol was forcing him to do the talking, Jeff replied to his surprise, “Annie.”

“Really? The one who ruined my experiment by bringing in freaking Rainman?”

“Yeah. But I think we’re moving on to becoming better friends to each other now that we’ve taken a potential relationship off the table. It’s nice,” Jeff explains with a hopeful smile before bringing up a question of his own, “Could we double back a second to what happened in that experiment? Did Abed really stay there for 26 hours?”

“Yes! It wasn’t fair! That bloody waster ruined my study!” Duncan fidgeted uncomfortably before Jeff provided him with an alternative look at the situation, “But didn’t he actually prove your theory right though?”

“How do you mean by that?” Duncan leans in, intrigued as his brows raised in surprised. Jeff shrugged his shoulders, “Well, the experiment was about getting people to their breaking points, right? All this proves is that the observers likely had their meltdowns before Abed did.”

Professor Ian Duncan cracked a wide, toothy grin as Jeff’s revelation dawned on him, “Bloody genius! Could you take that down for me and send it to me as a text, Jeff? I don’t believe I’m sober enough to operate my phone.”

\---

When Jeff finished sending Duncan the text that had likely saved his friends two-year-old study, he glanced briefly at the time. 2:01 AM. _Huh. The night flew by quicker than I thought it would._ Jeff smiled, “Alright. Sent.”

“And received. Thank you very much for that, Jeff. It’ll be nice to end my time here in Greendale by correcting that before I depart. Speaking of which, I think we should probably get going and pay our tab,” Duncan suggests as he looks at his phone.

“It is getting pretty late,” Jeff agrees. Ian begins patting himself down, as if looking for something, before pulling up an awkward smile to the bartender, “Maurice, would you mind if I come back and pay for it later? I seem to have left my purse in my lorry.”

The bartender rolls his eyes but nods nonetheless. Jeff steps in, however, with a question, “Hey Maurice, if I theoretically pay for his tab right now, would you happen to have information regarding any potential drunk photos of your regulars?”

“Toilet,” Maurice says blatantly, pointing at it with his thumb and a smile. _Jackpot._ Jeff hands the bartender the cash turns to his friend, “You’re paying me back for that, by the way. But before we go get my money from your car, I think a side-trip is in order.”

“No, no! We do not have to go there!” Duncan protests loudly as Jeff heads towards the bathroom to have a laugh at pictures of what would likely be a Street-sleeping Duncan.

“Oh, we **DO** have to go there. Come on, don’t ruin tonight. It’s been so-” Jeff jokingly jabs at him before Duncan interrupts by pointing towards him, then at the pub entrance, “Close your face real quick.”

“We do NOT get those very often. There’s a solid seven entering the bar. Or as we like to call it around here, a British Nine,” Ian confirms as Jeff turns around. Several women in costume enter the bar together, likely from a post-Halloween party. Nobody too out of the ordinary, except for a woman in a sexy cat costume. Then it hits him. _It’s HER._ Jeff quickly turns around and tries to make himself scarce, “Duncan. That’s Professor seven.”

“I mean Slater. Professor Slater,” he corrects himself, pushing back the recollection of Craig’s earlier quip several years ago regarding ranking students and teachers according to attractiveness. He was number 2. _Wait, who was number one?_ Jeff shook his head to dislodge the thought from his brain.

“Jeff, while I’m sure walking out on her in the middle of that lovers Triangle during the Tranny dance likely gave her enough emotional trauma for one lifetime. Wow, that is an ODD sentence to say,” Duncan says with pondering at his words before continuing, “In any case, it’s been over a year. She’d likely just ignore you and that will be that.”

“I MAY have drunk called her a couple days ago in a moment of weakness,” Jeff replies to him uncomfortably with a guilty smile.

“You unfortunate dumbass. Well, how about we discreetly head on out now, yes? No more side trips?” Duncan offers in an attempt to block him from finding incriminating evidence regarding pavement naps. But considering the possibly very awkward, very present exchange that was bound to happen he nodded along; it was time to leave. However, unfortunately for Jeff, even in an English bar, his drinking buddy stuck out like a sore thumb, “Ian?”

“Jeff?” Professor Slater exclaimed in surprise as she walked over towards them both, temporarily leaving her group behind and telling them that she’d only be gone a second.

“Hi Michelle…” Jeff replies gingerly as she approaches.

“Good Evening, Michelle. Or shall I say Meowchelle…” Duncan chimes in from the side.

“Shut up, Ian.” Michelle shakes her head at him, unimpressed.

“Oh What? It’s actually relevant this time. You’re **ACTUALLY** dressed up as… You know what, I don’t need this. Winger, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go for a bit of a wee,” Duncan complains before quickly excusing himself. Jeff was torn about being left to fend for himself by his friend like that. On one hand, he may have lost one of the best awkwardness magnets he had ever come to know. But on the other hand, no witnesses. Plus when Duncan returns, that would be an excuse to go. Maybe Duncan leaving was probably for the best, as long as he came back quickly.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she starts.

“Neither,” is all he can reply with before trying to use small talk to stall, “So… Uhm, you still teaching?”

“Yeah. Statistics in City College. It’s much more ‘real school’ than Greendale. Far less dances and a Dean that doesn’t blatantly flaunt that he has a dalmatian fetish. Although Spreck did rent out an Ice cream costume and pull out most of the non-probationary staff for an ‘excursion’ one day towards the end of the semester last year. Weird,” Michelle shrugs, “What about you?”

“Third year now. Can’t complain. No, wait. Actually, I can. Chang’s head of Security now.”

“The Asian man who taught Spanish that was found out to not have had a teaching degree?”

“Yep.”

“You guys are all dead. My condolences,” she says, shaking her head with a smile. _What’s taking Duncan so long?_

“Thanks. We’ll really need it,” Jeff agrees before bridging over to another meaningless conversation in an attempt to stall, “So… Cat costume-”

She cuts him off, “Jeff…”

“Yeah?” _Where the hell is Duncan?_

“There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask… A couple nights ago,” she began.

“It started snowing. Can you **BELIEVE** the weather we’re having?” he tries to derail the conversation, but it takes an unexpected turn as she pushes her question through, “Were you really just calling to talk?”

After a short pause, he answers her truthfully, “Yeah. I had a really bad night. And… I needed someone to talk to. You were one of the people who popped into my mind.”

Technically true. Staring at his sexual trophy box that night left him three distinct choices on who to call. Britta was out of the question because she was dealing with something at that point too. And he’d rather to bury the thought of ever having hooked up with someone who pronounced everything with a ‘QU’ so the only other option was Slater.

“Well, if that really was the case, I’m sorry I shut you out like that. I was having a terrible night myself and I know that doesn’t excuse me for what I did but I’d like to apologize anyway,” Slater confessed. Jeff was dumbstruck. He did _not_ expect that to happen. Although in hindsight, she did have experience dealing with his drunken calls before, albeit indirectly, so that probably built up some kind of modicum of trust she could have with his honesty.

“It’s… fine. I’m sorry about your night. As for me, my issue kind of worked itself out,” he replied to her neutrally.

“While we’re on the subject of apologies, the thing that happened during the Tranny Dance? I’m sorry for that too. I think I got too caught up competing with Britta that I put you in a spot I shouldn’t have.”

“Wait? Am I in some weird timeline where people are somehow apologizing to me rather than the other way around?” Jeff joked at her, “We’re good, Michelle. It’s in the past. Sorry for walking out, though… That was a douchebag move.”

“Well, yes. But on occasion, you were just the right amount of douchebag,” she smiles at him earnestly before they both hear a loud crash emanating from the bathroom.

\---

Jeff and Slater barged into the men’s bathroom to find a floored Duncan being stared at by a few patrons while they used the urinal. Having seemingly fallen out of a toilet cubicle, they found him groggy and on the ground with several incriminating photographs on-hand. Jeff rushes towards his friend, ignoring a hilarious photo of Ian sucking his thumb and cuddling onto a dog right outside the pub with the caption, “The sidewalk is more comfortable than it looks.”

“Duncan, are you alright? Let’s get you home,” Jeff asks him as he offers him a hand to help him get up. Ian takes his hand and wobbles as he stands before pointing at Jeff and Michelle, “Done catching up, I see?”

Jeff and Michelle stare at each other briefly before nodding, “Yeah.”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Duncan asks with a drunken slur.

“No!” the two replied quickly before laughing awkwardly at the thought. Michelle then took that as a queue to leave, “Well… as much as I’d like to continue having this conversation in a place with so much balls, I’m going to head back to my friends.”

“Ian,” Michelle and Ian nod at each other before she turns towards Jeff, “Jeff. Catching up was… nice.”

“Yeah, tonight was good, Michelle,” he replies. Jeff noted to himself that maybe they should see each other again sometime; he was curious about what she meant regarding having an equally terrible night, after all. That plus, he did have some things in his apartment that he really needed to return. _Giving all those clothes back is going to be so awkward. I wonder what I should tell Britta. That the hawk came back to return her panties?_

\---

After Duncan says goodbye to the bartender, Jeff carries his friend out of the bar and into the snow. They then proceeded to have a quick stop at Duncan’s lorry to retrieve the duffel that held his purse before they walked towards Jeff’s car together in silence. Until Duncan decided to speak out, “Was something about to happen between you two there? If so, I apologize for the disruption of a potential slap and tickle.”

“Nothing was going to happen, Duncan. Did you intend to stay on the floor all night? If so, sorry we interrupted your special nap,” Jeff laughs.

“Thanks for taking me home, Jeff. You’re a good friend,” Duncan states as he leans against Jeff, unable to keep proper balance; Jeff then unlocks his Lexus and helps Ian in.

“Wow, that is a nasty ding there,” Duncan notes at the gash on the side of Jeff’s car.

“Yeah, it happened last week. I didn’t see who it was, but there was a note on the windshield from a passer-by saying that it was a Taco Truck,” Jeff replies, before remembering that the handwriting seemed oddly familiar. Before he could latch onto the thought, however, Duncan chimes up excitedly, “Ooh! Tacos! I could go for some Mexican food, actually.”

“If you promise to keep the windows open and not eat it in my car, we can get takeout,” Jeff offers, but adds something to the previous statement after some thought, “But no chalupas.”

\---

“This is me,” Duncan stated as Jeff pulls over to the front of his apartment complex. After gathering his things, an appreciative comment about the ‘built-in-ball-warmers’ in Jeff’s car, and a quick handshake, he paused for a moment as his hand was on the car’s door handle.

“You alright there? Do you need help getting in?” Jeff asked.

“I’ll be fine. But if I may, might I leave you with some parting advice before I head out for tonight?” Duncan offered. Jeff nods, “Sure. Lay it on me.”

“My da was a bloody tosser. He was always drinking in pubs, left me locked up in my room with nothing and at the age of 10, he left my ma. And despite how much I hated him, it was still the worst feeling in the world,” Duncan began. Jeff had heard this speech earlier during the night, but it didn’t seem to lose it’s punch.

“Ma was a wreck after that. And although she wanted me to stay in England with her, she made the call that I would be better off going to America with my grandma. She was right. But now she’s sick and I’m just really frustrated about how much more time I could have had with the person who I considered my family,” Duncan explained to him as Jeff nodded in silence, letting his friend get it all out.

“What I’m trying to say is… Appreciate the people who you consider family, my friend. Both actual, and the one in Greendale that you seem to have built for yourself. Really cherish it. Because sometimes, these feelings of wishing you could have spent more time with them sneak up on you in the end,” Duncan finishes. After a moment of pause, he replies to his friend, finally allowing his guard to drop.

“My father left my mom in ’83. He was a two-bit con man with very little substance, and I have spent most of my adult life fearing that one day, I may just end up being like him. It terrifies me, since every now and then, I do things I regret later,” Jeff look at his friend guiltily.

“But you do regret it. Do you believe your father did?” Duncan inquires as Jeff shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Then you’re already infinitely a better man than he was.”

“Thanks for the sentiment. I guess we’ve both had it rough, huh?”

“Indeed.”

“And it seems like despite it all, we both ended up in a place where we could pursue an honest life.”

“I remember when I first said that to you when you started at Greendale. You threatened to punch me,” Duncan smiles at him.

“Well, you also did try to take my Lexus.”

“Fair”

“I know I’ve never said this to you because, well… I honestly didn’t realize until tonight but… I do consider you family,” Jeff offered before throwing in one last playful jab, “Maybe in like a creepy fourth half-cousin kind of way.”

“I’ll miss you,” Duncan laughed.

“You too, buddy,” Jeff offered him one final handshake but instead, Duncan gave him a hug before stepping outside his Lexus and waved goodbye.

\---

Banter. Some small talk. More banter, then wish his friend well on his visit to England. That had been Jeffery Winger’s initial plan for this evening. But what he had gotten instead from Ian Duncan had been far greater, more impactful and heartfelt. He stayed parked in front of his friends building for some time, just to contemplate it all. His friend’s opinions about friendship and family. About escorts. And the utterly strange coincidence of seeing Professor Slater again. After some time with his own thoughts, Jeff pulls out his phone and begins to compose a text message:

I know this may come as a shock, but would it be okay if we catch up sometime next week, maybe? Or whenever you’re free. I know we haven’t really seen much of each other in the past few years but I think I’d like to change that. I know it’s late, so take your time and maybe get back to me tomorrow. Hope to see you soon, Doreen.

After a short pause, Jeff corrected his last sentence before driving off home.

“Hope to see you soon, mom. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Amrywiol and Spencer for helping out with British settings and proofreading.
> 
> Come Join us on Discord.


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